Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
by WinchesterPhantom
Summary: 'Her heart stopped beating for a second, the horror, the horror spreading through her veins.' Pepper Potts is waiting and wishing for Tony Stark to come home. -set during IM1: those missing three months - Pepperony- COMPLETE!
1. Smile Part 1

**Disclaimer:** I in no way shape or form own Iron Man. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

**Author's Note:** My first IM fanfic. This is based in the movie 'verse and I would appreciate any con-crict that can improve not only my handle on the chracters but also writing in general. I'm aiming to tell Pepper's side of the three months when Tony was taken. This first part takes place just before Tony leaves - future installments will be much longer. Hasn't been beta'd.

**Sitting, Waiting, Wishing**

_'Her heart stopped beating for a second, the horror, the horror spreading through her veins.' Pepper Potts is waiting and wishing for Tony Stark to come home. -set during IM1- - missing three months -_

**Prologue: Smile (part 1)**

She watched him leave and followed. As she reached the door of his workshop she froze for a single moment. She took in the cars: the gleam of silver, black and hot rod red. She saw the clutter on the desk: pens, scrap paper filled with half imaginings of death. She noticed how the screens, the holographic images that had projected themselves were retreating.

She smelt him: grease, cologne, sweat and scotch.

A smile tugged at her lips.

His voice called from up the stairs. She turned her back and hurried up the stairs after him.

**TBC**


	2. Birthday Candles

**Disclaimer:** I in no way shape or form own Iron Man. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

**Author's Note:** Because the prologue is a little short here is the first chapter of what plans to be three. Hopefully the second chapter will be up in a week - that is the plan at least. This hasn't been beta'd.

**Sitting, Waiting, Wishing**

**One: Birthday Candle**

It wasn't every night that Pepper Potts got to party – most nights it was her watching her boss party while she cleaned up the mess (or rather organised the people who would): the bottles, the stains, and inevitably the woman who found herself twisted up in Tony Stark's sheets.

So the fact she was at a party – her party – where she didn't have to worry about the cleanup, only had to worry about having fun and of course the headache that would follow the next morning put her in a great mood.

Pepper was dressed in a long t-shirt – those were the only words that could describe her 'dress' that her cousin, Alison, had insisted she wear. She wasn't even sure how Alison had dug this up – and that she fitted into it still. It had always been baggy though and she was grateful that that was the case – it did no good to feel self conscious on your birthday. It even felt more comforting than when she was younger – her body had filled out, and instead of sticks and bones she actually had curves.

She felt great in it – even if this was probably not proper party gear for this kind of party.

After her boss had taken off to Afghanistan with Colonel James Rhodes, his best friend and contact to the military in tow, she had finished off the remaining paper work, working with due diligence until noon and then left the Malibu mansion to go to one of those spas with Alison. There she had relaxed and just rested – something that was rare in her line of work.

Seven o'clock starts (or earlier depending on matters) and ending at six o'clock (or later ... once again depending on matters) six days a week with one day's rest slotted in there on random days depending on his schedule for roughly eight years took its toll. She was married to her work to say the least – no time for dating and starting her own family.

Her friends, her family – they all thought she was crazy, that she needed to quit and get a new job: one with decent hours. She half agreed with them some days: the days when he acted like a drunk horny teenager and ended up in lock up leaving her to pick him up. The only compensation was the pay of course ... and the fact that life without her boss would be horribly dull.

Of course tonight was not going to be dull as the voices around her were singing, screaming – yelling that old tune. A stupid smile was on her face as her friends dragged out the monstrosity of a cake – decked out with cream and chocolate twirls. A single flame perched on top: whispering old regrets and new promises into the night.

Pepper was turning thirty-three; it was _her_ birthday, the same as last year and the year before. And like the year before, and the one before last and so forth. She wa surrounded in a small restaurant by her closest friends – from sport, college and school – and her small collection of remaining family. The cake looked fantastic. She was tempted to just sneak some cream off now, dip her finger in and lick like some child.

But she didn't.

The voices mellowed out, the clapping started. Her heart built with the claps, each one of them – one, two, three, four, five, six – a thunderous applause to celebrate her. Ever the little girl under her mask of cold iron she felt like a princess on her birthday.

"Make a wish, Gin!"

She half-chuckled at her old nickname. She was Gin to her family, to her friends since she was little. She like everyone slipped on different identities, different masks for different people. She was Virginia Potts the daughter, Gin the rebel without a cause, and Pepper Potts – the cool, collected and very well payed personal assistance to Tony Stark.

Tony Stark – the million dollar man who had it all.

"Come on, Gin!"

"Before the wish goes away!"

Pepper stared at the cake, eyes narrowed. Wish, wish, wish, wish upon the candle flame: world peace? Good but hardly possible, New shoes? She'll get those anyway – her pay check came in handy. For her friends and family to be healthy? Yes –and Tony Stark, her boss, of course – for Tony to come home in one piece.

She muttered the mantra in her head _(for everyone to be healthy, for my friends, my family ... and Tony)_ and drew in a deep breath. A moment passed and then she blew, air rushing out of her pursed, red lips and pushing the flame into smoke: a signal to the angels and stars of her wish.

Alison handed her a knife and Pepper gripped it firmly. She lowered it over the cake, the sharp point barely submerged in the cream.

"Remember, Gin," said Alison in a low voice, "If it comes out dirty you have to kiss the nearest boy,"

Pepper glanced at Alison's ten year old son, George, who was on her right. He grimaced at the thought of a kiss in typical childish fashion.

"Or just wait until that boss of yours get back," whispered Alison with a wink.

Pepper's face grew warm as for a second as she imagined his lips drawing closer – the smell of ... she blinked and looked at the cake and cut down.

He would've just landed – give or take half an hour or so. Maybe she should call and wish him good luck – nah that was a stupid idea – he had the Midas touch when it came to his ... creations. She pushed him out of her mind and continued to slice the cake.

She would not let her work haunt her tonight – tonight was her time to party, to relax, and to unwind – before he got back in two days and it was back to the slave drive – and with that she passed around the cake, before she bit down into her own slice, savouring the chocolate and vanilla taste.

Pepper spent the rest of the night like that: savouring the moments. Savouring hanging with Alison's son who had gotten so big it seemed and she felt guilt forming for missing so much of his life (Alison assured her otherwise but having worked with Stark and thus come toe to toe with hundreds of businessmen, lawyers, politicians and other PAs she knew that Alison was just saying that for her benefit as George did feel like she didn't care enough about him).

She talked to him until it was time to leave the restaurant – and a few others. As the guests filed out she noticed a few were left talking to Alison, who was nodding and smiling. The kind of smile which meant Amelia was up to something.

"What's going on?" she asked when Alison came over to the SUV with George already sitting buckled in the backseat.

Alison winked.

* * *

After her fourth shot she decided to dance.

After dropping George off and putting him to bed with the instructions to call if anything went wrong Alison had taken Pepper to a club. Pepper was grateful – sinfully pleased – it was one that Tony hadn't yet had the chance to grace with his presence. She also now understood why Alison had made her dress in that ... long t-shirt.

The club itself was white and clean with blue mood lights. It held a sense of class and elegance despite the fact half the patrons were all nearly off their faces. People sat in booths in small groups which were off to the right near the bar where tall, blonde waitresses served a variety of cocktails, wines and beer. Others were by the bar, chatting and laughing as they drained drink after the drink. To the left there was a large area dedicated to dancing. And up a set of strairs, on the mezzanine was the V.I.P section.

Pepper was thankful that they weren't in there – there she would be recognised instantly no doubt as she knew most if not all of Malibu's party goers, and that would mean her work mask would slip on.

They had met a few of the girls there: Lauren and Sue, Pepper's friends from high school; Max, Bonnie, and Maggie three of the girls from the office; Roxanne – one of the few models Tony hadn't bedded (but had tried to come onto Pepper ... and then realised it wasn't going to happen and had suggested friendship – and no she wasn't lesbian .. bi if her fiancé was anything to go by); and Rhona from college and Pepper's old buddy from modelling... back in the day when she had no degree and couldn't seem to get a job at a cafe like a normal college student.

They had all been at her birthday party at the restaurant but had changed for the club. Pepper felt so much younger at the moment than her thirty three years – she could be twenty one. They all did. The alcohol plus her tiredness weakened her resolve to behave and now she was just dancing – with Roxanne, Lauren and Bonnie.

The others sat in a booth drinking.

She twirled, swaying her hips to the music, laughter tumbling out of her mouth. Roxanne gripped her hand and spun her. She fell in side with her. "I need to get out more often!"

"I would've thought that with Monsieur Stark you were always out," grinned Roxanne, "He is the life of the party, oui?"

"Yeah – what is that about?" asked Bonnie.

"I'm his PA – not his guest!" she groaned, "I don't party, I do not have fun, drink, or dance or anything!"

"Awww, Pepper. I am sure it is not so –"

"– I clean up ..." interrupted Pepper, "I'm the cleanup crew,"

_Clean up._

She swayed to the side, leaning to her right. The beat picked up and she started right up again: spin, spin, dip. Her foot nearly went under her, her ankle bending. Roxanne's hands crept forward and pulled her up. Pepper leaned against her friend, and straightened up.

"I'm getting another drink," she said, "Wanna come?"

Roxanne nodded. "Fantastic,"

Pepper walked smoothly – only stumbling once – out of the crowd, weaving in and out of electric bodies that pulsed to the beat with Roxanne's beautifully manicured hand in her grasp so that they wouldn't be separated.

They reached the bar and squeezed into a spot – or rather Pepper pushed her way in and pulled on her PA mask – a sense of power and if-you-don't-move-right-now-I-will-kick-your-ass – something she had picked up when trying to reach Tony when he was being mobbed by women. Pepper leaned against the bar, watching the crowd while Roxanne ordered some more shots.

"I'm going to have a big headache tomorrow," giggled Pepper.

"Oui, but at least you do not have to fly back to Paris!" said Roxanne, handing Pepper her shot.

A high pitched cackle escaped Pepper's mouth and she froze for a moment before giggling. Roxanne shook her heard in quiet amusement, and Pepper took her the drink from her, grinning so hard her dimples were hurting – if that was even possible.

"Well to jobs that don't allow hangovers!" she exclaimed over the thump, thump of the music and the two friends clinked their classes together and drained them straight. The alcohol ran hot and cold down her mouth. Rolling her tongue to shake the sensation, she closed her eyes.

"Look at these Americans – cannot walk in heels!" said Roxanne with a chuckle.

Pepper's eyes snapped open to see Roxanne gesturing to a bunch of college kids who had just arrived and were clearly not experienced when it came to walking in heels. She looked at them fondly remembering back when she looked some awkward giraffe in heels. They would occasionally get a stride of elegance but often more they didn't.

"They'll learn," said Pepper, "I was like them once,"

"That is impossible! I do not believe it!"

"I was," she said.

"Non,"

"I believe the term was 'awkward giraffe' back in senior year"

"That is horrible!"

"Oh, it is the truth,"

"Lies," said Roxanne, "it is LIES!"

"Truth!"

"But you run in heels!"

"After much training," laughed Pepper.

"Never, you are a natural," said Roxanne firmly.

Pepper shook her head.

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "You are impossible – I shall prove it to you!"

Roxanne turned and grabbed a man who was just come to the bar. He gave a half yelp as he was pulled against Roxanne and Pepper smothered giggles, glancing up at him. He had dark hair, dark eyes and a clean-shaven face. His brow was furrowed in what Pepper could summarise as 'what the hell is going on?' which was completely justifiable – it wasn't every day you were pulled by a stranger to join a conversation.

"Monsieur – do you believe that this woman ever looked like an –" Roxanne froze and looked at Pepper. "What was it that you called yourself?"

"Awkward giraffe," chuckled Pepper.

"Oui!" said Roxanne. She gestured to Pepper. "Do you believe that she ever looked like an awkward giraffe in heels?"

Pepper felt his gaze sweep over her starting from her heels and going slowly up, lingering for but one second on her breasts which made her almost roll her eyes before he looked at her eyes with an apologetic look.

"Well?" said Roxanne.

"Um, well I ..." he mumbled, "I can't really tell since ..."

"A demonstration – but of course!" cried out Roxanne. She waved her left hand at Pepper. "Walk!"

"No, no, no –"

"You are impossible!" said Roxanne. She turned to the man, "Is she not?"

"Well, err ..."

He looked terrified of Roxanne as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Americans – impossible!" she said. Pepper and the man shared a look. Roxanne rolled her eyes. "I shall leave you two then,"

Roxanne turned her heel, not before winking at Pepper and wandered back onto the dance floor. Her jaw briefly dropped as she realised what she had done. She turned to the man who was looking at her curiously, his dark eyes serious but with a spark of ... amusement she supposed.

"Your friend is ... something," he said in an effort to make conversation.

"That's one way of putting it," said Pepper.

"Long way to come from France," he commented. "Is she working over here?"

"Nah," said Pepper, "She's here for a birthday party ... mine actually,"

"Birthday?" he repeated. His smile was like a hundred watt light bulb and had an impish quality to it. "Well, Happy Birthday then! I'm sadly here because my friend wanted to pick up a girl and needed moral support,"

She chuckled. "What would you be doing otherwise?"

"Grading papers," he shuddered and then perked up, "So I suppose this is better,"

"You're a teacher?"

"Professor, actually. Not that it means much these days – anyone can teach these days if our schools are anything to go by – the amount of idiots that pass through my lectures are astounding ..." he said, "Sorry, I'm rambling,"

They fell into silence. Pepper noted that how despite his height he seemed small – like he was nervous or a bit uncertain.

He was waiting for her to speak.

"I'm Pep – "

She froze.

"Sorry?" he asked.

Pepper studied him. She could tell him that she was Pepper but that ran the problem of him connecting her to Tony ... and all Tony's very public scandals. That would lead to questions – and heaven forbid work. It had happened a few times over the years and it always in killing off any desire for sex she had – it made her feel guilty for some hellish reason. Tonight she shouldn't have to feel like that – it was her birthday after all.

"Gin, my name is Gin," she said.

"Chris," he said, "Is Gin short for –?"

"Virginia," she said.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Gin," said Chris. He extended his hand to her and she took it. He lifted her hand up and kissed it lightly, giving a wink. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards at the gesture.

"Ditto, Chris," said Pepper, tugging her hand back. "So ..."

"Now before I continue – do you have a boyfriend?"

She raised her eyebrows, frowning. "Why?"

"Because I'm about to ask you to dance and I really don't want to be beaten up."

Pepper grinned, running her tongue over her teeth slowly before nodding. "I'm all yours, Mr –"

"Buckland,"

He took her hand once more and led into her into the crowd. As their bodies were pressed against each other, the crowd surrounding them and pulling them into a sweet oblivion of rhythm and beat, Pepper said just loud enough for Chris to hear:

"You were the friend who needed to get picked up, right?"

"Sadly yes,"

She laughed and let him sweep her into his arms.

* * *

_Buzz_.

The sound echoed in her dreams.

_Buzz._

Continuous, a _buzz buzz_ – God, her head hurt.

_Buzz._

Would it not stop? The sound seemed to stretch on. Pepper's eyes cracked open slowly, her hair falling over her face. That noise – needed to stop it. It was her phone, the god damn phone.

_Buzz._

Her hand reached forward to her bedside table, and touched glass. That wasn't normal. She didn't have a glass bedside table. She had a wooden one which was stacked with books. She craned her neck upwards to see a glaring green numbers staring back at her.

"Where am I?" she murmured, pushing her body upwards, her head doing a slight spin.

The buzz had stopped which was a small favour as Pepper tried to get her bearings. She was in dark room, in a bed. Not her bed. She turned her head to the left, eyes widening as she took in the man laying on the other side of the bed, who was curled up with dark hair, muscular – but not bulky – build, and pale skin which all made available to her eyes because his shirt off. A silk gray sheet draped over his lower half.

She had gone home with a stranger, had slept in his bed...

Her hands pressed against her chest and she sighed as she felt her dress still on. She hadn't done a Stark – at least she didn't think she had. It was all a bit of a mess. Pepper wasn't sure if she was pleased or saddened by that. Her mind flickered over the night before. She had danced with Chris (which must mean she was at Chris' now), she had drunk some more, talked to the girls ... then it started getting very fuzzy.

"What time?" mumbled Chris' voice.

"Ummm," she said, turning to the alarm clock. She squinted as she tried to focus the numbers. "Seven sixteen,"

Chris sat up with a jolt, staring at Pepper.

"Gin?"

She nodded.

"Good – I thought for a second ..." he paused. "I don't even know what I thought."

"That's fine – hey, did we...?"

Chris frowned and lifted the sheet up. "Pants still on,"

That was sad. Chris obviously thought so too as his face looked slightly dejected. His face reddened when he noticed her looking at her.

"Sorry," he said, "It's just ..."

"I know," she muttered.

"What was the noise before?" he asked, "The buzzing?"

"My phone ... I think,"

"Who would call someone at –" he glanced at the clock again, "- well it's not completely unreasonable but –"

_Buzz._

Pepper groaned and tried to work out where the sound was coming from. She swung her legs out of the bed. When she was on her feet she felt a wave of vertigo, and slumped back down. This was not her morning. Her stomach churned and she clenched her eyes shut.

_Buzz._

"Fuck,"

_Buzz._

Chris moved behind her, and she felt him leave the bed as it dipped slightly. He was moving around, probably trying to find her phone. She opened her eyes and saw him bent down by the bedroom door, hands splayed out on the ground, searching.

_Buzz._

"Got it," he said, pulling it up. He glanced down. "Just missed it – someone called Rhodes?"

Pepper wondered what the hell Tony – _Mr Stark_ a little voice whispered – had done that required a call from Rhodes. She was going to kill Stark when he got back.

"A friend," she said. She held out her hand and he came over, placing the BlackBerry in her hand.

He sunk onto the bed beside her. "You definitely said you didn't have a boyfriend?"

"No boyfriend – you don't mind if I call back...?"

"Go for it," he shrugged and laying back on the bed.

Pepper dialled and waited. It didn't take long for her to hear Rhodes on the other end of the line.

_"Pepper?" _

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. His voice was thick with panic. She could feel it dripping through the earpiece. Something was wrong.

"What's happened?"

_"He's gone,"_

_He_ is Tony Stark. _Gone_: the word was heavy. She frowned. "He's gone? As in ...?"

_"Attack, Pepper. We were – listen we don't know where the fuck he is but he isn't – we haven't found a body so he should be ..."_ she could hear his choking sobs.

She felt sick.

"Rhodes?" she said slowly, trying to keep a steady breath.

Chris sat up, his arm creeping around her, sensing her distress. She barely noticed him as her mind ran wild. This couldn't be happening – Tony Stark couldn't be ... he was Tony god damn Stark. He was ten feet tall and couldn't be knocked down.

_"He's been taken,"_ said Rhodes.

Taken.

The phone dropped from her hand as bile rose. Her jaw clenched. Her heart stopped beating for a second as her mind processed what Rhodes had said, as reality clutched her body, the horror, the horror spreading through her veins. She bent forward, Chris' grip the only thing keeping her from toppling over as she threw up. Her stomach heaved and she could taste it on her tongue. She couldn't hold it back, her stomach kept heaving.

Tony was gone, he was gone. That didn't make sense – it wasn't. Was he hurt? Was he walking in the desert half-dead? Taken ... her mind flickered to those hostage videos and she felt even more sick. God, this was so ...

She heaved again.

She eventually stopped, panting, fighting back the urge to keep going as the smell hit her nose. Shivers ran hot and cold up her spine. Somewhere in the distance there was Rhodes' voice screaming for her to pick up and Chris trying to pull her into the bathroom.

She couldn't move; her body wouldn't function. Her eyes were blank and she couldn't reign in the lighting pulse of her heart.

Cold water cascaded onto her as she was sat up on the tiled shower floor.

She cried.

* * *

If Pepper Potts had met Chris Buckland at any other time she would've dated him in a heartbeat. After vomiting all over his bedroom floor he had cleaned her up, talked to Rhodes briefly to tell him that she was currently indisposed but would call back, tried to get the vomit out of the floor, got her into one of his old sweatshirts, wrapped her in a thick blanket and kept her Blackberry away from her (she missed roughly six calls) until she regained control over her stomach and her head stopped pounding – or at least felt better.

He fed her as well – dry toast with a slither of butter and made sure she drunk some water. He did this while dealing with his own hangover which was significantly less but one nonetheless. He also didn't ask questions. He wanted to – she could tell even in her less than composed state of mind – but he seemed content to wait.

Now he was driving her home, taking extra care not to crash as they met the heavy morning traffic, listening to some old sixties band. She wasn't sure how fate had directed her to such a nice guy. Or why fate had decided when she did meet a nice guy her boss had to be attacked in Afghanistan.

She took a deep breath, fighting back a jab of panic in her gut.

"Gin?" asked Chris, glancing at her before turning his eyes back on the road.

"I'm fine – just ..." she didn't know what to say. A bit of her wanted to spill – and not like earlier – but the logical part of her mind knew not too. The press hadn't been told judging from the radio coverage – it was still under wraps - and she couldn't completely trust Chris not to leak it. He was a nice guy but she had only just met him and she didn't even remember all of it.

"What's happened?" he asked, "I get you don't want to tell me – but even if it's something vague because something is better than you just holding it in,"

Pepper sighed. "If I say something – I might just keep going,"

"Okay," he said. "I have one more question – why did you tell me your name was Gin, Ms Pepper Potts?"

Her stomach sunk, she felt a wave of sickness but sucked it in. "Rhodes".

Chris nodded.

"Well ... it's just ... when I'm Pepper people just think of –" she couldn't bring herself to complain about Tony. Not that it was complaining but it still felt wrong.

"Tony Stark," he said.

She nodded. "Yeah and to my family I'm Gin so ..."

"I understand,"

She hoped he did.

They drove in silence for a bit longer with Pepper changing radio channels to hear of any updates – there were none. She had her Blackberry in her hand but had decided she was better off waiting until she was in the privacy of her apartment to start calling people back and getting a proper handle on the situation.

He pulled up in front of her apartment block and pushed a scrap of paper into her hand. "It's my number ... if you wanted to get coffee or something,"

"I'd like that,"

She meant it too. She wasn't sure if she would have time for coffee – but the thought was nice, the offer was nice. He was nice. Normal. Not kidnapped in freakin' –

"It was nice to meet you, Chris," she said and slid out of the car.

"Ditto, Gin"

That brought a small smile to her face.

She watched his car drive away and raced up to her apartment. The moment she got there she washed her teeth, drunk a big glass of water and stared at her Blackberry before picking it up and returning a call to Rhodes.

He had been worried about her and quickly brought her up to speed before saying he had to go. There were little consoling words passed between them as Rhodes started thinking like a soldier and Pepper's logical side took over.

She called Stane next (he had called her three times in the time from Rhodes' first call and her getting home) and he quickly informed her at six o'clock that night they would be informing the press with the Ministry of Defence.

_"It's going to get out,"_ Stane had said, _"And though I would like to keep it quiet we really can't. Those kids who were with Tony ... well we need to stay on top of things,"_

"Has anyone contacted you yet?"

_"No,"_ there had been a pause, _"The press are going to come hard on you. I'm assigning Happy to you. Also email me directly about things – don't worry Ms Pines,"_

Ms Pines being Stane's PA.

He had hung up but not before telling her he wanted her at the board meeting in New York by tomorrow. She half suspected it was his way to get her to not dwell on the fact the Tony Stark was probably dead. She welcomed it because it allowed her to focus on something else.

After calling the airline she had then contacted Happy to coordinate with him. He had fortunately, for her, already been informed of the situation. Finally on her list was Alison. She confirmed that she was alive and well – Chris was an angel to say the least. Alison had picked up the tremor in her voice but Pepper had just said:

"Keep your eyes on the news."

That was all she could really say.

Pepper spent the rest of the day getting over her headache, packing up for her trip to New York which she would leave for at eight o'clock that night. She hadn't booked a return flight as she wasn't sure how long Stane would want her. She booked a hotel for Happy and her – one that was close to the SI New York complex. She checked her email, sent a few and then looked over Tony's schedule for the next few months. She started making changes, sending Stane emails about dinners that would needed to be rearranged and speeches that either needed to be cancelled or something else from the company would need to step in.

She got a reply telling her which things could be cancelled and what couldn't but to hold off until after the press conference. Her mind worked in overdrive. The work distracted her from the sinking feeling in her soul: the twist in her gut and the worry that claimed her body and wanted her to panic.

Happy arrived at her place at a twenty to six and took her bags down. They talked briefly as Pepper made coffee. He was operating in a state of shock. They sat ready to watch the press conference, the coffee forgotten.

The Minister of Defence started. He was calm and composed as he detailed a brief outline of what had transpired. Stane was perfect of course. While clearly emotional he kept a fairly straight face as he read the Stark Industries' official statement.

The moment question time started Pepper turned off the TV, her eyes red.

* * *

She was running on empty steam.

The meeting with the board had been a silent and lengthy affair. While normally the board was frustrated with Tony and his moments in the media (read the number of women he slept with or how smashed he got – fortunately he had never gotten a DUI thanks to Happy) at this meeting they were silent and still. It was like Death sat with them, staring into their souls.

There was no denying that while they did have teams of engineers working around the clock, Tony was their main source of income. There was no denying that despite all his flaws he was like a son to many.

And of course there was the ever present issue of who would take over if Tony was confirmed ... dead – a word nearly everyone tried to avoid saying the entire meeting. Stane was the first and most logical choice and Pepper couldn't help but notice the small smile that flashed onto his face when this was announced. It was promptly wiped off a second later and she just shrugged it off.

She wasn't even sure why she was needed. She sat there silent, watching the board. Afterwards Stane had asked her to get some coffee with him – check how she was going. There she had asked the reason for her sitting in on the board meeting.

"I want another pair of eyes looking at them. I don't want Tony's vision – his legacy – to be destroyed. And it's _you_ and _I_ who know Tony best. We have to protect the company," he had said, "You understand this right?"

She had nodded. She was there to protect Tony's legacy.

Whatever the hell that legacy was.

She had only remained in New York for two days before flying back with Happy to Malibu. She had felt guilty for dragging him along. She didn't need a driver. She could manage by herself. And it wasn't like she was going to be at risk. She was a PA after all.

Besides that she was busy reorganising Tony's schedule. She was emailing Stane's PA, Laura Pines (who she developed a great rapport with), to shift any dinners or engagements onto him that the company couldn't afford to lose and cancelling others. Most people understood but there were some that weren't.

And of course there was the media. They hounded her as Happy dropped her off and picked her up each day. They even sat outside her house. They wanted answers, needed answers.

She had none.

It tortured her at night when she lay there staring at her white ceiling, her doona pulled over her. There had been no news. Not even a hostage video. He had vanished into smoke. Pepper couldn't – wouldn't – accept he was dead though. No body after all. He was still alive. She knew that somehow because in her dreams he was there, on the fringe and beside her. Not speaking, not moving but there.

He just stood there, staring at her. Sometimes figures would move behind her, terror and horror would claim her and he just kept staring at her. She screamed at him, yelled at him but there was no response.

When this became too much she'd get up and drink some tea and stare out of her living room window. Sitting on the couch she would eventually small asleep and wake the following morning with a sore neck.

It was maddening.

Pepper's only reprieve came when Happy decided to take a detour on the way home, when Rhodes called to say he was coming back for a few days of R&R.

* * *

They met in a quiet diner just outside of town. They both wore jeans, baggy jumpers (or rather baggy in Pepper's case) and sunglasses. Pepper had gone the step further and worn her hair under a baseball cap, taken several various routes that double and triple backed on themselves to make sure the press didn't follow her.

Maybe she was being paranoid but she didn't want them to ruin it.

She sat down in a booth, taken off her glasses, ordered some coffee and a plate of waffles. A few minutes later Rhodes had walked in, taking off his sunglasses, his eyes raking over the diner before zeroing in on Pepper. He had an apologetic look on his face for his lateness and sat opposite her. He looked like hell twice over.

She signalled the waitress for more coffee.

"You look like hell," she said bluntly.

"You don't look much better," he said with a heavy sigh.

Their coffee arrived with Pepper's waffles.

"Comfort eating," she said as he raised his eyebrows. Rhodes didn't know Pepper too well but in all his years since Tony had first introduced her he had never seen her engage in something unhealthy – and there was something very unhealthy about the amount of syrup and ice cream piled on those waffles.

She picked at them for the majority of their meeting – he even joined in at some points. They drank lots of coffee. Their conversation was full of Tony – or rather Pepper asking questions and Rhodes weighing up what he could and couldn't say before he shoved that to the side.

"He's got to be alive because whoever attacked would know by now that Tony was in that convoy and would want to claim glory. It would put them in a powerful position in terms of ... street cred to say it simply,"

"So no claims?"

"You would've heard about it before us – they would've leaked it onto the internet, the media before telling us," he said, "Not even a whisper,"

She knew better than to ask if he could just be wandering around. He would've been picked up or would've sought out the US Army troops out there immediately. And from Rhodes demeanour she could see they were having no luck in any form searching.

"I don't see how he can just vanish," she said, placing her fork down and leaning against the booth.

"he can't. He's out there ... somewhere," said Rhodes.

He took a big swill of coffee. "But moving on – who was that guy?"

"Guy?"

"When I first called you,"

"Right," she said, picking up her fork again and trailing it through the melted ice cream. "Chris. He was ..."

"One nighter?"

"No even," she said with a small smile, "Just a guy,"

Rhodes narrowed his eyes. "You've been blocking out the world, Pepper,"

She looked at him. "Just a tad,"

"We share that,"

And they did_. Because with Tony Stark in your life_, Pepper mused, _he is the centre, the sun and the rest of the universe fades out and when he's gone you cling to memories of warmth and keep shutting out the world._

_

* * *

_

She called Chris the next day.

He was shocked that she had contacted and she felt a stab of guilt. She apologised and he said he understood. They arranged to meet for coffee in two days at some out of the way coffee shop with what Chris said had the greatest cheesecake in the country – followed with a long statement that went along the lines of 'if she was into cheesecake' but seemed to go on for much longer.

This time Pepper was running a bit late as she had to deal with a very persistent reporter. However as she had learnt plenty of tricks from both Happy and Stark over the years so eventually shook him and made it to the coffee shop only a tiny bit out of breath.

Chris was sitting near the back, reading a weathered book which had scribblings all over it. He glanced up as she sat down taking in her jeans, black blazer and knitted beanie that had her red hair tucked inside.

"Incognito?"

"Something like that," she said with a smile, sitting down. She gestured to his book. "What is it?"

"Conrad's _Heart of Darkness_," he said, "I studied it Junior year ... and even now its teaching me things,"

"I remember _Romeo and Juliet_," said Pepper, "The others were a blur,"

"And your thoughts on those star crossed lovers?"

"They were teenagers in heat," she said, "They barely knew each other,"

"I believe that is why they are called 'star-crossed'," he said dryly, leaning back.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "What's _Heart of Darkness _about?"

"That's a loaded question – do you want the simple or philosophical answer?"

"Surprise me,"

"It's about the search for truth and riddled with what a human can truly commit – what we really can be, how dark our hearts can be," he paused, "That was a pretty shoddy answer but basically Marlow, a sailor, is recounting his journey into Africa where he meets this man called Kurtz who believes himself to be made of greatness,"

"Sounds more interesting than Romeo,"

"It is ... and yet Romeo and Juliet are pretty interesting," he said, scratching the back of his head, "You are right – they were teenagers in heat. But it does show us what people will do when a conflict isn't resolved. It isn't really about their love – it's about the feud."

"You would've been fun to have in English class," said Pepper.

Chris grinned. "I've been told otherwise – I believe the term is 'stop speaking and over thinking, nerd,'"

"They just don't know what they are missing," she said, "It's like with Tony – he can go on and on and over think everything and yet –"

She froze. She had just called him _Tony_ ... he was Mr Stark, Mr Stark, Mr Stark – not _Tony_.

"He's a nerd behind the playboy?" said Chris with a smile before sobering, "You don't have to answer that,"

She shook her head. "Nah"He is a nerd," she said, "Sometimes I struggle to get him out of his workshop so he can shower,"

"I can understand – when you get an idea, a really good one, it consumes you. You just start running with it and the world fades into nothing – hey you wanna order something?"

"Yeah,"

He waved over a waitress and they ordered coffee and cheesecake.

"So how have you been keeping up?" asked Chris.

"Not well," she said, "I just ... he's out there somewhere," she glanced at Chris, "I'm really sorry about not calling you sooner – normally I'm not like this –"

"Gin," said Chris, his tone serious, "I have no idea what you're job is like but I can imagine its hetic and with him gone you are more or less fixing everything up as best you can. That and the media – I'm willing to get my class to protest against them, I seem to attract all the hippies - well its tough,"

She shook her head. "They would probably protest building weapons,"

"Yeah, probably," admitted Chris.

"And ignoring freedom of speech,"

"Invasion of privacy – I could get them going on that," he said, eyes bright "It wouldn't be that hard – they practically think I'm God when I teach so it isn't a far stretch,"

Pepper chuckled.

* * *

She met with Chris again.

Otherwise she fell back into her routine of work. And nightmares. She talked to Alison a few times but only briefly. She called Roxanne on Skype so she didn't shut out the world. The two of them giggled and chatted away like they were teenagers and Pepper felt a certain sense of normality. Roxanne had mentioned she was going to fly over but Pepper assured her that wasn't needed.

She started going on runs, sprinting through the streets, her mind focused on each step and each breath. She did this mostly at night so that when she got home she was so tired her body had no choice but to fall into sleep. She pushed herself hard – relishing the opportunity to do something.

When she wasn't running she went to yoga with some girls from the office once a week. Her conversation with Rhodes, who was still over there searching, reminded her of the chilling fact Tony was the centre of her universe ... and while he was coming back, he had to come back ... she needed to keep in contact with the rest of the world.

Besides that it was just work, work, and more work. It seemed weird to work when there was no boss around but she found there were things to do, things to organise still.

One month ticked over and there was no news of Tony Stark.

And as she sat in her living room, this night not tired enough to sleep though she had ran five miles, she realised she needed something stronger than tea.

Pepper needed a stronger drink.

**TBC**


	3. Dusty Lamps

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay - been busy. Here is the next installment. Hasn't been beta'd. Hope you enjoy it.

**Sitting, Waiting, Wishing**

**Two: Dusty Lamps**

Pepper was not sure how Alison had roped her into this.

It was apparently a good form of therapy. It was physical but not frighteningly exhausting. You could still work up a sweat if it was hot enough and there was enough to be done. It was also a very methodical and logical art. You needed to do things in the right order, use the right amounts, and make sure you didn't waste time on one thing or another because otherwise your entire schedule would be thrown out for the day.

Pepper knew all that and yet her current thoughts were focused on how her forearms had never been so sore as she scrubbed Alison's shower. They were practically pulsing from the exertion.

"When was the last time you cleaned this place?" she asked, shooting a side glance at Alison who was wiping the mirror.

There was a stretch of silence.

"Not in a while then," summarised Pepper and returning to her scrubbing.

As she scrubbed she reflected back on the fact once upon a time, before she was Tony Stark's – she clenched her gut – PA and couldn't afford to hire her own cleaner she had been very into cleaning herself. This was back when her father was always away and her mother couldn't clean because of the delusions. It had been Pepper's job to make sure the place didn't become infested with grime and rats. She hadn't see it as therapy though – she saw it as something that had to be done for basic hygiene. Over time she had gotten pretty good at it as well – maybe that's why she liked being Tony's PA ... she got to clean up after him.

She nearly chuckled at that.

It was only after making it six months (a new record back then) of being Tony's PA did she realise she didn't have the time – and if she did – she didn't have the energy to clean. She'd get home and end up sitting on the couch half-way through vacuuming before promptly falling asleep. Unable to live in a dirty house she'd hired a cleaner.

She hadn't cleaned in about eight years – and now she was paying for it. What she wouldn't do to have Sasha here – that woman was a dream come true when it came to cleanliness.

"I could just call –"

"Gin," said Alison, "It's about working out your demons,"

Pepper raised an eyebrow, looking back at Alison.

Alison turned and leaned against the bathroom sink. "Cleaning them away,"

_Clean away your demons – _where had she heard that_ –_

"Out, damned spot! out, I say!" quoted Pepper as the words came. At Alison's look she said, "It's from _Macbeth_,"

This seemed to perplex Alison even more. Pepper could see her cousin's lines deepening as she frowned, one of her eyebrows quirked. "And ...?"

"Lady Macbeth trying to let go of her guilt – demons ... I don't know," she finished lamely, turning back to clean. She gave the shower another scrub, all too aware that her cousin's eyes were on her like a hawk, her gaze stuck to her with glue.

"Since when do you read Shakespeare?"

"Chris. He lent me his copy when I was over at his last week. It would almost be fun if not for the fact his copy has millions of annotations all over it," said Pepper loudly, still scrubbing away as she knew Alison was still staring at her.

"And yet you are reading it – why?"

Pepper shrugged. There was a moment of silence. She wasn't exactly sure why she was reading it. She had seen it on Chris' shelf, completely battered like nearly all his books and had picked it up upon chance when he had gone to the bathroom. When he had come back to find her just sitting there and reading, he had offered to lend it to her if she wanted. She'd taken it and found herself immersed in the bloody world of _Macbeth_.

She wasn't sure why she liked it. It was probably due to Lady Macbeth: she was control – at least at the start. Lady Macbeth commanded the powerful Macbeth with carefully placed words and suggestions. It was like herself in a way – she controlled Tony Stark. The similarities ended there in her mind though – she was not homicidal.

She also supposed she liked it so much because it was complex; it made her think which in turn made her more tired. This resulted in better sleep – or at least made her dwell on other things. It was a good distraction at the very least.

"Are you two dating?"

"What?"

"And you claim you got valedictorian ..." said Alison, rolling her eyes. "You and Chris – are you dating?"

Pepper blinked and shook her head. "No, we aren't,"

"How come?"

Pepper sighed. "It really isn't ... the time for that,"

There was never time, never enough time for anything. That and she couldn't date Chris – not when she was in this mess. Not when _he_ was still gone – half dead or half alive she wasn't sure.

"Gin," said Alison softly, "You need to realise he might not come back,"

Her heart jolted. "He's coming back,"

"And if he doesn't? I hate to say this but it's been a month,"

"People have survived longer,"

And Tony was no ordinary person – so that increased his chances dramatically.

She hoped.

She got home at eight that night, smelling of lemon and other cleaning products. She stripped off, leaving a trail of clothes to the bathroom before hopping under the hot and heavy stream of water that relaxed her aching muscles.

The water felt good, so warm and gentle on her body as she washed her hair, hands running through long strands. There was nothing more than the steam, the patter of water on the shower tiles and the knowledge that she wouldn't have to clean this shower.

Pepper got out, wrapped a blue towel around her body, her hair clinging to her back. Grabbing another towel she gave it a quick dry to get some of the water out before letting it hang to dry naturally.

She walked slowly through the apartment, noting how the darkness encased it. Once she reached the kitchen she made herself a cup of tea, glancing every now and then out the window. The view offered her Malibu in shimmering lights and in the distance she knew his house was there.

Just standing there on the cliff.

His house.

_Out, damned spot!_

She turned away from the window and picked up her tea, taking a small sip. The peppermint tea did nothing and she stared into the cup. She placed it down and went over to her pantry, pulling out her bottle of scotch, and grabbing a glass.

* * *

Pepper didn't sleep well that night.

She lay awake in her Egyptian cotton sheets, the doona pushed to the end of her bed, eyes staring at the blank ceiling. She was vaguely aware of the luminous blue light from her alarm clock – telling her that it was two in the morning, of the soft and gentle rumble of occasional traffic that sped past, the sound going upwards and seeping through her open window. Every sound, every smell, every phantom – she could hear them all. Her senses were heightened.

It was cold: the room had chilled and yet she couldn't be bothered to get up and put on a jacket or close the window. Instead she just lay there in underwear, her skin scattered with goose bumps. Her hair, still damp was spread across her pillow. Occasionally she'd get a shiver, one that would ripple down her spine and into her toes.

But mostly she just stared at the ceiling.

She was tired. She knew that. She just wanted to sleep. This was frustrating. She had tried reading _Macbeth_ but it was like she couldn't comprehend the words. She had moved onto Charlene Harris' vampire series which were considerably less complicated but even then the words might've just been written in a foreign language.

Her body called for sleep, her mind called for sleep. But she couldn't. She was half tempted to get up, drink more tea and sit on the couch but didn't want to reawaken her body. It felt so heavy, so ready to slip under the Sandman's watch.

But she wasn't.

Her mind drifted about. She thought back to that brief point when her dad couldn't sleep and she had been frequently woken up as he had ambled up and down the hallway. He had always stopped at her room, peeking in as she had laid still as a statue, forcing herself to breathe naturally, her back turned from him so he wouldn't see that she was awake.

He had once seen that she was awake – and had promptly taken off for a month, muttering about how he was keeping her awake, how him being away was the best thing for her which was completely wrong. She had started to stay up deliberately, waiting for him. Because despite the fact he woke her up, she felt comforted knowing he would be there to stop any monsters.

Not that monsters were real, of course.

Still the idea of being trapped, with no one to help her, a shadowed figure approaching, hands tied – her heart skipped a beat. His eyes, his face, his dark hair swum at the corners of her vision demanding to be seen and acknowledged. She tried pushing it aside, thinking of Johnny Depp but his face morphed back into Tony's.

Tony.

She started to sing softly, pulling the memory of sitting in her dad's pick-up to the present and listening to Black Sabbath. The words came easily, falling out of her mouth in a low mumble.

_"Can he walk at all, or if he moves will he fall? Is he alive or –"_

She froze and started singing Spice Girls.

Her eyes soon became heavy and she must have fallen asleep as when she opened them the alarm clock told her it was seven.

She felt drunk, hung-over. She sat up, yawning deeply, her body tensing and then relaxing in the motion. She flopped back onto the bed.

And got straight back up.

* * *

She shouldn't have come. It was a bad idea – a very bad idea. This was stupid. She glanced back at the road and briefly considered turning back. She should just go back home, relax, have a strong cup of coffee. That was the logical, smart and appropriate thing to do. She had no reason to be here – none at all.

But she still went, kept her foot on the gas as she drove towards Tony Stark's Malibu Mansion. It was beautiful, the sun had only risen a few minutes ago and the sun's rays were making the white mansion gleam as it lorded over the ocean, clinging to the cliff.

She hadn't been there since the early days – and that had been strictly to pop in and grab paperwork. She hadn't lingered there. She couldn't. It had been hard enough going in there with the knowledge he wasn't there, that he was in some hell hole in Afghanistan. Even back then she felt like the place lacked life.

She wondered how dead it would be now.

Pepper drove her car right up, contacting JARVIS as she stopped in front of the gates, and flashing her card that granted her access. The AI almost seemed surprised – if that was possible. The gates had opened as smoothly as ever. It almost felt like she had travelled back along time's passage and this was a month ago.

She wished it was a month ago, before he left. She'd delay him even more from catching that plane, or prevent him from even leaving the workshop – like handcuffing him to his desk... or breaking his foot. Anything to try and make what had happened over there play out differently.

She parked under the little car port Tony had outside his garage entrance that was hidden from prying eyes. It was usually occupied by Happy's car. She slipped out and walked to the front door, all too aware that it felt wrong walking this path without heels. She had never entered his house without heels. She glanced at her scuffed canvas shoes wondering what Tony would say if he saw them.

Maybe when he got back she'd wear them just for kicks – because he was coming back. And he'd probably need something to distract his mind from – she pushed the dark thoughts aside. As she reached the door there was a quick scan as JARVIS confirmed who she was. The door then clicked open and Pepper hesitated, staring into the white walls, the silence.

She swallowed and walked in quickly, closing the door behind her and then leaning against it. Her eyes travelled over the high ceilings, over the endless white, over the floors and into the living room where she could hear the trickle of the water fall Tony had put in two years ago.

"Welcome, Ms Potts," said JARVIS, "Is there any specific reason for this visit?"

She bit her lip. She hadn't really thought of a reason – she had just ... felt the need to come here. At seven in the morning. On a Sunday. When her boss was missing. She had just felt the need. To come here.

"Nothing specific," she admitted, "Where's Dummy and Butterfingers?"

She was asking about the droids. She had really sunk low.

"They are in the workshop, waiting for Mr Stark to return which I have calculated to be currently at 0.5%" her stomach churned "Would you like me to send them up?"

"No, no!" she cried, "I was just wondering."

She started to walk forward, each step taking her further into the mansion. The sunlight streamed in and she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath as if that would call upon some magic, turn back the clocks.

Nothing happened, she opened her eyes and time went on its merry way.

She started to walk around the house, down familiar hallways, passing familiar rooms – she froze outside his bedroom and glanced in. The bed was made, crisp and clean. The whole room was crisp and clean. It normally looked like this and yet since he wasn't there it seemed like it belonged to no one, it wasn't his. She quickly left it, leaving the door ajar, swearing that if she was in heels she'd be further away. His room was like the rest of the house. It was a mausoleum, a place of death. It had no life besides JARVIS who would occasionally ask her something. She didn't respond though, her voice practically gone.

All around her she noticed how the house was dusty. Dust had collected. She was probably the first person in here since the attack. The moment it had happened Stane had given the maid the message her services weren't needed until Mr Stark returned. After three weeks there had been the order to have all the food chucked out that wasn't in cans or long lasting. Pepper had been asked to oversee that but in the end she knew if she did that it would mean she would have to linger. Instead she had sent Happy off to deal with it, hiding at the office, pretending to do work as her mind had wandered to the house.

_His._

She stood on the staircase and ran her hand along the rail. Inspecting her hand she saw the dust.

_Out, damned spot!_

She knew what she had to do.

* * *

Chris was correcting papers when she arrived.

He didn't even glance up at her, eyes scanning over pages and pages of messy panicked scrawl, jotting down the occasional note in red. She slipped into the booth, signalled the waitress for some coffee and watched him work. His hair was a bit longer now, touching the papers as he hunched, completely and utterly focused on the papers. He was a machine as he marked, the occasional frown appearing on his face, the occasional ghost of a smile as one of student's must of done something right. He was pouring his heart into his work.

It reminded her of _him_.

"Journalist given you trouble?" asked Chris without looking up.

She blinked. "Something like that,"

He raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes lingering on her for but a moment before he bent his head down again and furiously attacked the paper with a pen. When he was done he put his pen down, and glanced up at her again, this time maintaining it instead of returning to his papers. "Sorry about that,"

"No problem – behind schedule?"

"Something like that," he said, mimicking her perfectly. He blinked. "Sorry I shouldn't of –"

"Mimicked me?"

"Yeah,"

Pepper grinned. "You know you say 'sorry' a lot, Chris – I have to say after working with To – Mr Stark," she amended quickly, "that 'sorry' is pretty much a useless word,"

"Well so –" he froze, "Stark overuses it a lot?"

"More or less,"

Tony actually didn't use it, mused Pepper, he conveyed it in his body language. And yet no matter how much he realised he screwed up, the next day he hadn't changed. It was like he was stuck in that mindset – the play boy, genius, adolescent mindset and was never going to get out of it.

Chris smiled. "Life can't be boring though,"

Pepper chuckled. "True,"

She then steered the conversation back onto Chris' papers.

Talking about Tony to others, to those who didn't know Tony didn't feel right.

* * *

She made sure not to go back to Tony's house again during the week.

She could do that on Friday... that was acceptable. Kind of. She really shouldn't have gone over there in the first place and yet she knew she would've done that eventually. She felt safer there. There the reporters couldn't get her, there the world faded away, there she could let her emotions run free.

She chuckled. Normally when she was there she had to keep her emotions in check ... how things had changed since Tony Stark was kidnapped.

She knew this was another way she was shutting out the world as Rhodes had put it a couple of weeks ago. So she made sure during the week that she was attentive to the routine: she went to yoga with the girls, did her work – she even went out on coffee and lunch breaks with Maggie, Max and Bonnie, three girls whom she had struck a friendship with since coming to work at Stark Industries all those years ago. She delved into her co-workers world of gossip and office scandals. She even chatted with Isabella, made a quick call to Rhodes to make sure he was okay.

Happy was reassigned that week as well. The media had slowed down and Pepper knew it was a waste of time for him to keep driving her around. She was just a personal assistant after all – or office worker. She wasn't really sure what she was anymore these days.

Pepper did that all to make sure she didn't obsess over the mausoleum that had become Tony Stark's home.

It kind of worked.

Her mind still flickered to his home, flickered to the list of things she needed to do there, the cleaning products she would need to restock on.

Pepper made it through the week though. On Friday she said her goodbyes, leaving the office at three and walking confidently to the carpark, only lingering at the front desk to tell her friend Maggie that she had plans with family that weekend and couldn't go out on Saturday.

It wasn't a complete lie – she did have plans ... just not with family.

* * *

She lived and breathed the Stark Mansion.

That one weekend had done it all, changed her life to speak. She was practically living at Stark Mansion. She half-wished it was Tony Stark confessing love or something (which wasn't possible as there was _no way_ Tony Stark could ever think of _her_ like _that_) and thus had insisted she moved in. Instead it was the fact that as she cleaned she found it impossible to leave.

She arrived every night, under the cover of darkness and left just before dawn broke. If anyone at work noticed she seemed more tired than usual they didn't say it. She slept in Tony's dark home, not well on the first few nights though. The first new nights she went from one of the guest bedrooms, to another guest bedroom, to his couch before ending up in his bedroom, standing at the door before she turned around and walked down into the heart of Stark Mansion, the workshop and fell onto the leather couch in the corner that Tony would sometimes nap on.

She had decided since the start that she wouldn't clean this room – while the rest of the mansion had a dead like quality to it, this space still had life.

She didn't want to lose that.

As she cleaned she came to the realisation that Tony was actually sentimental man – for certain things. His house on the outside looked very crisp, very orderly, very intimidating to those who didn't know Tony as it showed a cultured, rich and powerful persona and offered no glimpse to the man behind all that – as a home should.

But the sentimental things were all there – just hidden.

The painting in one of the hallways for example was something Maria Stark had painted. The weird iron sculpture that stood in the kitchen had actually been made by Tony when he was sixteen one summer. Pepper hadn't known that if not for the tiny inscription on it that she found while dusting. In Tony's seldom used home office on the bookcase were his yearbooks, school journal from when he was eight with '_On the weekend I helped my dad rebuild his Ferrari.._' – she bet the other kids never wrote that. She found certificates from various competitions that he had won, found some childish drawings of cars that he had written on with the proud words _'ORIGiNOL JAWING + DISIGN BYE ANTONY EDWAR STARK, AGE 3 AND 5 moNths'_.

She found pictures of Rhodes and Tony on Spring Break holidays, found pictures of Tony with his mother, a picture of Tony with an old man who was teaching him how to cook. The old man was dressed like a butler (turning it over she read that it was Jarvis, the Stark's butler with Tony was nine). She found pictures of Tony, aged fifteen surrounded with much older girls – classmates from MIT no doubt, celebrating his birthday. The smug smile was there even then.

The only pictures of his father, Howard Stark, were ones Pepper had seen – ones the public had seen.

All these items were hidden around and a delight to find, even though she did at some points feel like she was intruding on something. He should be showing her these things, telling her these things.

Pepper hoped that one day he could.

* * *

"Long time no see, stranger,"

He said it with such an easy smile – the devil's smile, dark hair falling over his eyes. Which were looking very nice actually: soft, warm. And his lips – she wanted to reach back over and – no, that wasn't right. This wasn't right. She couldn't be doing this now, this wasn't possible. She started to sit up and as she did she realised she wasn't wearing anything.

Her legs were entwined in sheets and he was watching her the entire time.

"Where are you going, Pepper?"

Pepper – her name. He said it and she crumbled apart. She couldn't leave him ... and yet he wasn't here. She knew this. He wasn't here. This wasn't happening.

"You aren't real," she said, her voice breaking slightly as she said it. "This isn't happening,"

He started to fade, become pale, the sun ducking behind the clouds. She knew how this would play out.

"How can you say that?" he asked, voice low, "Pepper, you can't leave me – I need you,"

"I ..I –"

His hands grabbed her, threw her down. But it didn't hurt. Not even when his fingernails drew blood, when his skin slowly rotted away, and the horror, the horror filled his eyes.

"You can't leave,"

And then he's kissing her, but she still feels nothing. Because this is all just a dream. And she wants to wake up. She shut her eyes, opened them again to see his face, his eyes ...

"Damn you to hell, Stark,"

"Only," he's at her neck, "if," his teeth are nipping her skin, "you come with," no pain and yet she knows he's tearing her apart, "me,"

She closed her eyes, his name but a whisper on her lips. "Tony,"

She woke up in his workshop and stared into the dark.

* * *

"What do you think dreams mean?"

Chris glanced up from his club sandwich. They were by the sea, in a smart little cafe. It was a Sunday and after seeing the amount of missed calls Pepper had accumulated she realised she did need to get out. Chris had booked the restaurant, saying they needed to stop going to crappy little diners – they needed to go somewhere where he could have a beer.

She wondered what student had pissed him off this time.

"Subconscious thoughts and concerns that your mind manifests to help you deal with everyday troubles?"

The entire sentence seemed to wash over her. She ate some pasta, chewing slowly. She really wanted to sleep.

"One of your students wrote that?" she said, fighting back a yawn.

"Yeah," he said. He shrugged, "I don't know. There are different types of dreams ... depends which one you are talking about."

"What do you think?"

"The sleep kind,"

"Smart one, you are" she said, twirling her fork through her pasta. "But seriously – what do they mean?"

"I think my answer before –"

"Nah, that was too ..." her voice trailed off.

"What did you dream about?"

She saw _his_ eyes. Tony's eyes staring at her.

"Nothing,"

She saw Chris' eyes narrow.

"Bullshit, Gin,"

"Seriously," she said.

"You look like you haven't slept in a good few days, I know for a fact you aren't at home because you aren't answering your phone and when I went there the other day you didn't answer the door –"

"Maybe I was out," she challenged, "What have you been stalking me or something, Christopher?"

"No," he said softly. He took a deep breath in, "I was worried about you – I went over to make sure you were okay – you weren't there. You hadn't answered any of your phones for like a week. So I waited – the next morning ... I fell asleep in –"

"Just get on with it," she said through gritted teeth.

"I heard your car, woke up and ... you weren't there all night – leads me to wonder where you were ..." he swallowed, "I'm worried about you,"

"You hardly know me,"

"Yeah – well ..." he trailed off. "I'm worried – okay?"

"Yeah, whatever,"

She didn't answer his phone calls after that.

* * *

Two months gone and there was still no sign.

She sighed; lay on his couch, in his workshop. The leather felt comfortable, comforting against her weary muscles, her long legs draping off it, her hands resting on her chest, hair fanned out around her face. It had come to this, this need to keep this vigil, to wish and wait for him to come home.

Why couldn't he just come home?

"JARVIS, lights off,"

She didn't cry, but she felt the burn to. She didn't sleep at first, but just stared at the ceiling until the warm air, the lack of light, and the knowledge that here in Tony Stark's heart, his core, the place where he spent so many hours hunched over plans and designs, the monsters couldn't reach her dreams.

She was surrounded in darkness and dreamt of him: not in pain, not in agony. For once she dreamt of him walking towards her, a smile on his face.

She treasured that dream because it didn't come again.

**TBC**


	4. Shooting Stars

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay - been busy. Here is the next installment. Hasn't been beta'd. Hope you enjoy it. This is the second last chapter. One more after this which will be uploaded on Friday.

**Sitting, Waiting, Wishing**

**Three: Shooting Stars**

She wasn't sure if it had been Rhodes or Stane who had ordered her to pack her bags and take a break.

It was probably a combination of the two of them. She could see the logic behind it: she was becoming obsessive, cleaning her (dead) boss' house every single day, not sleeping, trying to squeeze information out of various military personal, searching rabidly on the internet for any trace or mention of Tony Stark. She hid the exhaustion well but even she couldn't forever hide the bags or the fact she walked a little slower or that her mind drifted off at meetings. She could see that these were not good – she shouldn't be obsessing ... he was gone for good ... and she needed to acknowledge this. One of the problems with being a PA is that she had learnt to look at things in a logical and cool manner – to see all angles. It had been two months – they had heard no trace ... chances were he had wandered off into the desert, and he was dead and buried under six feet of sand.

She needed to see this – but she couldn't. Rhodes hadn't given up – she knew he was still searching for him. That meant he had to be alive – somewhere. The image of him in chains, in some darkened room, skin pale and sickly white, hair long and the eyes: they held no charm, held no spark. They were hopeless, desperate. She saw this image again and again – it plagued her dreams. It was only when she was awake when she recalled it that she saw something behind those desperate eyes – saw that her dreams were surrounding her with fear and that the eyes were a mask – behind them was silent determination to live through it.

That was the Tony she knew and she knew he was still out there somewhere.

And because of this blind faith she held she wanted to wring both Stane and Rhodes necks for forcing her to pack her bags – for a temporary holiday ... but she somehow also knew this was Stane's way of getting her away from the company, to slip off the radar for a bit so that when she came back she found her job was no longer needed.

Not that it was needed – being a PA to a dead man wasn't possible.

She glanced out of the window of the conference room. The Malibu sun made the outside glowed and she could see the hundreds of Stark Industries employees' cars, glinting in the sunlight. This shouldn't be happening.

The conference was empty except for them, Rhodes' bag, and three glasses of untouched water that sat on the table. The room was cold with white walls, gray carpet, and a long glass conference table. The only colour was a painting done by a high school student as a 'thank you' to Tony – _Mr Stark_, she reminded herself – after he had donated fifty thousand dollars to help restore a community centre five years ago.

Or rather Pepper had convinced Tony to do that, not revealing that she had used to live in that area. It had been his idea though to put it up in the conference room as he claimed it calmed him from breaking the board in half whenever they held a meeting down in Malibu which was almost never.

"Pepper?"

She looked over at Rhodes who sat on her left while Stane sat in front of her, across the glass table. The way they had sat had been significant – Stane could maintain his boss persona while Rhodes could be the friend. It was meant to remind her that this was an order from her boss but also advice from a friend – something to appeal to her emotional and logical sides.

Her emotional side didn't want to be appealed to and would rather she threw a tantrum – Rhodes was going back to Afghanistan at some point as his stays in the States over the last two months had been fleeting and brief. He was in no doubt going to search for Tony. Why wasn't he being forced to take a holiday and she was ... she closed her eyes and pulled her emotions back in, keeping her mask up.

She opened them. "Yes?"

"So what do you think?"

She looked carefully between the two.

"It's a great idea – this has been really stressful ... and it isn't like I'm doing anything here. A break sounds like a sound idea,"

She spoke carefully, slowly and clearly – her voice was practically a monotone though she did try to inject some life into it.

But she was tired and frustrated so that inject life came out as a half hidden snarl.

She needed something to drink – or punch Rhodes in the face ... Stane could just deal with her glare (that wasn't a glare because she didn't want to glare at him and risk being actually fired so instead it was more of a blank stare). She forced a small smile on her face.

"Do you have family to stay with or see? Or friends?" asked Stane.

"Company is always a good idea," added Rhodes.

She almost said 'no shit, Sherlock,' but refrained.

The reason she had become so obsessive was because she had no company. She didn't really have friends, she had pushed away Chris – which was his fault (dirty lies, whispered her mind) – and her family was practically non-existent besides Alison and George.

Maybe it would be nice to go somewhere with them.

"Yeah – my cousin and her kid," she said.

Stane seemed pleased by this piece of news.

"Well, Pepper, I'm happy to organise flights and accommodation for you – if you tell me where you want to go," said Stane.

"Mr Stane –"

"Obadiah," he interrupted.

"Obadiah," she amended and she saw a glint in his eyes - possession. She really wanted to take back saying that. She swallowed though and continued. "I appreciate the offers but you've already paid me enough over the years – I'm perfectly fine to cover my own costs,"

She forced another smile.

"Pepper, I must insist," said the older man. She opened her mouth but he continued, "but," he smiled (leered more likely), "If that is how you feel about it then I suppose I can't stop you."

He stood up. "Well I have to go – rest up, Pepper, and remember to call if you need any assistance," he nodded at Rhodes, "Rhodes,"

Rhodes stood up and gave him a nod. "Obadiah,"

Pepper didn't say a word.

* * *

Rhodes walked her out of Stark Industries. He had attempted to put his hand on her shoulder but she had shrugged it off. Despite the fact she wasn't fired, she felt like she was ... leaving work like this. She should probably look for work actually. Working at Stark Industries without Tony there ... felt wrong.

Job hunting, her most hated activity. Pepper grinned wondering if that was the reason she hadn't quit for all these years.

"Pepper?" asked Rhodes.

"I'm fine," she said, pulling the smile off her face. They fell into silence as they walked over to her car. There used to be a time when she never used her parking space – Happy would always come and pick her up as per Tony's orders. But now ..,

Her guilt twisted slightly. Ever since she had gotten that phone call about Tony, Happy had slowly slipped off her radar. She thought back over the last few weeks and knew she hadn't kept in contact. She had practically ignored him.

"Is Happy being sent on holiday?" she asked.

Rhodes shrugged. "I don't think so – last time I spoke to him he was in New York driving around the execs – he needed a change of scene,"

Pepper nodded. She'd have to call Happy when she got home.

"So when do you think you'll go?" asked Rhodes.

"Soon ... what about you?"

"Huh?"

"When are you going back?"

She didn't need to verbalise where 'back' was.

"Three days,"

"You haven't given up yet,"

Rhodes looked at him and she saw how weary he looked. He looked exhausted – just as much as she was. As she looked at him she realised he must not be sleeping or eating enough as his suit was loose on him. He hadn't shaved (no doubt he would before he left) and she could see the stubble – which looked wrong. He should be crisp, clean. But here he was weary.

"No, I haven't," he said slowly, "People like Tony don't just ..."

"... vanish," she finished.

Rhodes nodded.

"Well I should go," Pepper said. She fished her keys out of her bag. "It was good seeing you again, Rhodey,"

"Same here, Pepper," he said, "Please do rest up. It isn't healthy for you to be like this,"

"And it's healthy for you?" she challenged.

He was just like her only that instead of spending a month cleaning Tony's house he was actually making a difference by searching constantly for his friend either by organising scouting missions and the like. The fact he was doing it in active warzone ...

"I'm a soldier, Pepper," he said.

"A machine, a war machine then?" she said, her voice raising.

He opened his mouth and a sound escaped but no words followed.

"You aren't a machine, Rhodey! Don't ever think you are!" she said. She could feel her face warming, her breath coming out short and sharp. "I can't lose you – not like I've lost him – you're ..." (_family)_ "You're human – like me,"

A tear slid down her face and Rhodes reached out and pulled her into his arms. It was like being hugged by a big brother ... not that she ever had one but she could imagine it would be like this.

Eventually she pulled away, wiping her eyes with his hankerchief.

"Sorry," she said.

He smiled. "Don't be – this is ... well ... a shit situation,"

She gave a low chuckle.

"Pepper, I need you to listen to me," he said, gravely. He looked at her straight in the eye, "I'm a soldier – I'm trained to deal with this shit. You're right: I am not a machine. No one is. But I have been taking care of myself – you think they'd let me fly out if I wasn't?" she shook her head. She was half tempted to argue but she was just so tired ..

Rhodes continued. "Exactly – I have people watching me ... that have to. You don't have the same thing ... and you've been shutting people out,"

She nodded numbly.

"Call me if you need any help," he said.

"Call me when you find him – as soon as you find him," she said.

"Wouldn't do it any other way,"

They exchanged one last hug and went their separate ways. In the core of her heart Pepper prayed Rhodes would find a trace of Tony.

* * *

"We're going away?" asked Alison as she cooked a rich spaghetti sauce, stirring the tomatoes clockwise and then twice counter clockwise.

Pepper had turned up at her cousin's earlier that afternoon. She had wandered in to an empty house as Alison was still at work and George was at school. Unsure of what to do with herself she had sat on the couch and watched TV – which she had turned off as the only thing to be on was daytime soaps and cleaning ads since her cousin had not yet invested in the joys of cable.

She had then sat there on the couch, staring blankly at the wall before whipping out her Blackberry determined to find somewhere to go to on 'vacation' before putting it down and slumping against the worn leather couch, pulling the woollen blanket over her, her eyes closing.

The apartment was cold but Pepper was numb. She knew that when she got back she would have to start job hunting, she knew that this Stane's way to get her away from the company – at least until she pulled herself together and stopped obsessing which was impossible – completely and utterly impossible.

Tony Stark was alive.

That was a fact. It wasn't a belief. It was a fact.

She had fallen asleep to this eternal monologue because when she opened her eyes it was dark, the front door was opening as her Alison's and George's voices spilled into the room, and she had a groggy sensation that only comes when you take an afternoon nap.

She had sat up, mentally kicking herself for not calling Alison beforehand and called out.

"Ali? It's Pep – " she had frozen and amended. "It's Gin!"

There had been a small shriek as lights were switched on and Pepper shielded her eyes as they adjusted. Hurried footsteps and the thump of shopping bags hitting the wooden floor had come towards her as Alison had raced into the living room to see Pepper with her messy hair, pale complexion and bags under her eyes. George stuck close behind his mother.

Once the initial shock was over Pepper and gotten up to help Alison with cooking the dinner while George was sent to shower – he had had soccer afterschool and had a nice splatter of mud all over him, and complete his homework. The two women had cut onions and tomatoes in silence before Pepper had revealed what had happened at the meeting.

It had taken Pepper a while to get it out and only now Alison had said something: 'we're going away?' which was half shock, half curiosity at the sudden proposal.

Pepper nodded. "Yeah, we are going away ... or rather I am but if you want to come with George that would be great. I'll pay for you and everything as I know this is last minute ... but I just can't ..."

"Stand to be alone," said Alison, turning away from the saucepan.

Pepper bowed her head.

"Well ... it sounds fantastic but I'll need to contact work – and check with George," said Alison in a practical tone. She looked seriously at Pepper. "And I really can't leave my baby cousin to fend for herself,"

Pepper stuck out her tongue, a tiny smile creeping on her face.

"So I suppose so – but you aren't paying for it all,"

"Ali –"

"Gin, you are not paying for it all," said her older cousin as if that was the final word.

* * *

Pepper rolled her eyes.

_"Canada?" _

Pepper leaned against her leather couch, dressed in drawstring yoga pants and a loose shirt, her hair in a bun and a cup of soup sitting on her coffee table. Beside it was her iBook with Skype on: Roxanne was staring at from the other side of the world in similar clothes – though more expensive and better fitting no doubt. Both women had chatted for the last hour by video conferencing – which tended to have Roxanne trying on outfits and modelling them for Pepper, seeking her opinion.

They had now moved onto Pepper's travel plans. She had decided to go to Canada ... she wasn't sure why but after discussing it with Alison they had decided that somewhere on the continent would be best but they needed somewhere isolated.

So after searching on the internet into three at the morning they had found a nice little two bedroomed cabin in the Canadian wilderness as there was nothing like the fresh country air to wash away your fears, after all.

Pepper nodded. "Yeah, I've never been there so it seemed like a –"

_"Pepper, Pepper!"_ cried out Roxanne, _"You should be in France! Stay with me – we would dine out, go shopping, see the sights – it would be __merveilleux__,"_

"And how would Ricardo feel about that?" said Pepper, thinking of Roxanne's fiancé.

_"He has always wanted to meet the famous Pepper Potts," _said Roxanne with a smile.

Pepper grabbed her cup of soup. "And why is this?"

_"I believe he feels frustrated that after all this time he has still not met my best American friend,"_

"Best American friend? What have I done to deserve this?"

_"Being your intelligent self and good company,"_ said Roxanne with a smile, _"And keeping the –"_ the French woman froze and Pepper's gut twisted for a second. She had nearly said his name. Roxanne continued quickly_, "men away from me when I have had too much to drink – looking after me, my dear Pepper."_

"Is that all?"

_"Ahhh, Pepper, it would take me an age to describe my feelings for you, oui?"_ teased Roxanne, a twinkle in her eye.

"But not best friend?"

_"Non, Pepper – that is for my Gregor, oui?"_

"I doubt this Gregor even exists – I mean who could be better than me?" smirked Pepper.

_"Touche,"_ said Roxanne, _"But alas Gregor is Gregor! One day you will meet him – when you come to France. It isn't too late to –"_

"I'm not cancelling my flights,"

_"Pity,"_

* * *

The Canadian wilderness wasn't all too different from the American wilderness.

Pepper looked out of their small cabin and smiled. The sun was setting now, the gleaming disc setting into the air as a raw orange spread across the sky while the earth was slowly darkening. It was peaceful, the sweet air soothing her. It was tranquil, an escape from everything else. There wasn't a soul around, just endless forest and a lonely dirt road.

No cars honking, no smog, no mobile phones constantly going off, no rush – just the moments one by one. Everything passed slowly, in its own pace and yet there was no drag, no impatient waiting.

They awoke each morning, early and went for a walk. They cooked a big breakfast, Pepper reading and Alison sketching the landscape while George asked repeatedly to go on another walk. They kept this up, for a week, for another, and another.

Life was good.

Pepper was outside one night with George.

The stars were scattered across the sky. The air had chilled but Pepper and her nephew didn't notice as they both watched, the smell of a roast wafting through the open window, the sound of Alison looking around for pots and pans.

It was their last night in solitude.

"Auntie Gin?"

Pepper blinked, glancing over at him. "Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"You won't get mad?"

"No,"

"Promise?"

"Yes,"

George nodded. "I was wondering … did you love Mister Stark?"

She had no idea how to answer that. She swallowed. "George … he was my boss. He was a good friend" true "but I didn't love him,"

Lie.

"But you miss him so much …"

"Because he was a very good friend," said Pepper sadly, "He was one of a kind,"

"Well, I think he'll come back," said George confidently.

"I'm sure he will,"

She said it so softly that it was less than a whisper.

_Come back, Tony_

Above a shooting star danced across the sky.

* * *

They arrived back in the US one day after that chilly night.

George went back to school, Alison went back to work, and Pepper began looking for new work. She couldn't remain at Stark Industries, though it pained her to leave. She had been there for so long … but she needed to escape the Stark name.

Move on.

She called Chris and organised to see him. To his credit he seemed as cheerful as ever – when made Pepper all too aware of how badly she had treated him when really he had just been looking after her. They went for coffee and a walk – talking, joking and moving through the day.

It gave her strength.

* * *

There was an element to this which was sad.

But the element that said 'if you do this, you can walk' overwhelmed it, outshone it – whatever. Pepper needed to do it. If she didn't wipe away the last of it than she knew that she'd keep this hole inside of her fresh and gaping.

This was her final way to get closure.

She was back at the Stark mansion, cleaning again but this time she knew it was her final clean. The last straw. Once she finished this and wiped her last bench she wouldn't come back. She needed to move on and this was the last step.

She had called Chris and told him – he had offered to help but she said that she'd rather finish this alone. He was picking her up at six though to take her out – a nice dinner, a walk – she wasn't sure what he had planned but she didn't care. She was just glad they had patched it up – somewhat anyway.

Time would help.

* * *

The day was coming to an end and she was packing up the last of her cleaning supplies. She went down to his workshop – a room she still hadn't been able to clean. It was the same as forever – hopefully it would remain as such. She could see this place becoming a museum of sorts – it had the security and it was a testament to one of the greatest minds to have lived.

She hoped it could remain preserved.

She drew in a deep breath: breathing in the last of him. She wandered through it, her hands brushing over his tools, over his papers. She was gentle, careful – like this was his body. It was an extension of himself after all.

He was his ideas.

And they were him.

Throwing a final glance she started to walk towards the stairs.

"Bye, JARVIS," she said to the AI.

The AI started to speak, wishing her goodbye and she murmured soft replies as she made her way to the front door and into the dying sunlight of a California sunset. Beyond the gate she could see Chris' car pulling up – perfect timing and she walked confidently down towards him.

She had let it go – it was done.

She didn't look back.

Until her phone started to ring, and she twisted back towards the house to grab the tiny BlackBerry in her backpack – for a moment she saw the mansion – back she quickly twisted back towards the gate, answering her phone.

It was Rhodes.

_"He's alive,"_

* * *

She was sitting on the hood of Chris' car. Chris was watching her – she wasn't sure because all her attention, her focus was on the man who was on the other side of the world.

_"Pepper,"_ came his voice.

"Tony," she breathed it, tears starting to fall.

He was alive.

_"You okay?"_ came his reply.

His voice was so raw, so _real_ – so not like cocky arrogant Mister Stark but more like the man beneath that – the man few got to see.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

There was a pause.

_"I'm better now,"_

She could hear his smile through the BlackBerry.

He was back.

* * *

Happy Hogan and Pepper Potts stood side by side at airbase, watching the blue sky. The sky was blue of course, to reflect the fact he was coming home, finally. A tear trickled down her face and she couldn't help but smile. Happy's hand slipped into hers and gave it a quick squeeze which she returned. Soon life would be back to normal.

"Three months," she breathed.

_Three months in purgatory waiting for you to come back from hell. _

The clock continued to tick on as they waited. Behind them were airmen, soldiers and the like moving around them: preparing for the arrival of Tony Stark. An ambulance was on standby, the paramedics out with the stretcher ready.

"There it is!" cried Happy, pointing into the sky.

Down, flying down, slowing down, was the large plane that had Tony Stark safely in it. She watched; her heart leaping as she heard the roar of the engines. He was really coming home, he was coming, the plane was about to land – he was here. The plane touched the runway, raced along before stopping and Tony Stark was back on home soil.

Life was restored.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thoughts are very much appreciated.


	5. Smile Part 2

**Author's Note:** The last chapter. I would like to say a massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed, fave'd, alerted and read. It means a lot. and with nothing further ado ... the final chapter of ...

**Sitting, Waiting, Wishing**

**Epilogue: Smile (part 2)**

Tony Stark walked into the workshop and saw everything as he had left it. He took in the cars: the gleam of silver, black and hot rod red. He saw the clutter on the desk: pens, scrap paper filled with half imaginings of death – he'd have to trash those. He noticed how the screens were turning on, holographic images appearing.

Everything was if he had just left it five minutes ago ... and yet something was different.

He looked around desperately trying to find what was different, brow furrowed. His heart rate quickened and jolted, as his body grew hot. Something else had been in here ... or was ... but what? He moved quickly around the room, eyes scanning over his workshop like a hawk.

He reached his couch when he saw it: a single long strand of hair. His hair wasn't that long. His hair wasn't that colour. He drew in a quick breath and that's when he smelt her: paper, pens, coffee, vanilla, and mango shampoo.

He smiled.

* * *

**Fin**

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thoughts are very much appreciated. Thanks!


End file.
